“Now I see you’ve started talking to yourself,” he heard an amused voice just as he lifted his head.
“Hey, Zane,” he answered back, turning toward the coffee station. “Coffee. I need coffee.”
“Oh, you are starting to sound like a little girl,” Zane said, with a shake of his head. “What is wrong with you?”
He snorted, grabbing the largest foam coffee cup the store carried and filling it with the black brew. “You know darn well what’s wrong with me, and I don’t sound like a little girl. Besides, I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he added, then blowing at the piping hot liquid before taking a tentative sip, doing his best not to burn his mouth.
“Whatever,” the other man smirked, giving him a once over. “You look like something the cat dragged in.”
“No, I don’t,” he grumbled, looking down at himself once again before snapping the plastic lid on the cup. “My clothes are clean, and there’s no holes.”
“Who said anything about your clothes? I’m talking about your face,” the other man chuckled, following him to the register. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go without shaving. Even in high school. Your mother would take a switch to your backside.”
“I didn’t have time” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Don’t tell my mom. I slept through the alarm. I barely got the horses fed on time.” He sat the cup down on the counter, so he could pull his wallet out of his pocket, and waited, knowing Zane would have more to say.
“It’s a good thing your brother’s take care of the ranch through the week and you work with them on the weekend. If you had more than a couple horses to take care of through the week, they’d starve,” he said with a smirk. “And if your clothes are so clean, what’s that there?” he asked pointing to something smeared across Brock’s pant leg.
“Dang it. I must have picked that up while I was feeding the horses,” he groaned. “Snow may be pretty when it starts out, but stomp around in it long enough, it’ll turn dirt to mud just as easily as rain will. Wouldn’t you know it, the first day I’ve been late in over three years and we finally got that snow they’d been threatening us with.”
“Oh, stop your grumbling. You’re sounding like a little girl again,” Zane said with a shake of his head. “Besides, I didn’t realize you were late yet. I thought everyone got there around six.”
Brock gave him a dirty look, picking up his coffee cup and heading for the glass door. “Yeah. When my life is as wonderful as yours, you can tell me to stop grumbling. Until then, leave me alone. I’ll grumble all I want,” he grumbled in irritation. “And I’m usually there at five thirty. I feel as the boss and owner of the paper, I need to be there when everyone else starts coming in. Mary Ellen’s probably already there.”
“How did you ever make it on the football field? You’re a little sissy,” Zane smirked.
“Big man with a gun,” he smirked back. “Say that to me the next time you’re in civilian clothes.”
“No way,” Zane grinned. “Amanda would have my hide if I showed up at our wedding with a black eye. Just so you know, I think we’re supposed to get more snow.”
“Yeah, I wish I had somebody to get angry because I showed up with a black eye on our wedding day,” he grumbled, walking toward his truck. “And yeah, were supposed to get another couple of feet or so. This first round was barely anything compared to what we’re supposed to have coming. I think we’ve barely got three inches, so far.”
“You could, you know,” Zane said, sounding serious all the sudden.
“I could what?” he asked, a little distracted.
“Have someone worried about your black eyes on your wedding day.”
“How’s that?” he asked, giving Zane a curious look, wondering if he knew more than he should”
“Just ask her to marry you.”
“Ask who to marry me?”
Zane eyed him incredulously, thinking he’d finally gone around the bend. “Mary Ellen. Who else would I be talking about, Nitwit?”
“Don’t call me nitwit, and I’m working on it.”
“Oh, really?” Zane eyed him hard, almost afraid to ask. “How?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now. You’d probably tell me I’m crazy,” he stated, trying to evade the question. “I’m sure it’ll get out soon enough.”
“This must have something to do with whatever Mary Ellen was ranting about yesterday.”
“She was ranting yesterday?” he asked, his interest perking up. “When did you see her?”
“Lunch time with Jenny. What are you up to?”
“Nothing you need to worry about. It’s completely legal.”
“I’m sure it is,” Zane chuckled. “You haven’t got a criminal bone in your body. But I am just as sure it’s completely crazy. You have more than one crazy bone.”
“See what I mean?” he sighed, turning to lean against his truck. “And you don’t even know what I’m doing.”
“You’re a good guy, Brock, but sometimes we really do have to worry about your mental state.”
“Ha-ha.”
“Hey, I’m starting to think you have a death wish.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not suicidal.”
“Are you sure? You send that beautiful, sweet woman into a rampage at least once every other day.”
“Look who’s talking. Ever since high school, anytime you got within shouting distance of Amanda, you chewed her out. I remember more than once, watching her cry over something you had just said. Before you stomped off in a snit, I might add.”
“A snit?” the other man chuckled.
“You can use whatever word you want to for it, it all amounts to the same thing.”
“I had good enough reason,” he said, slapping his hands to his own chest. “Look at the men she was dating.”
“If you’d have asked her to marry you a long time ago, it would have saved both of you the heartache.”
“Yeah, it would have,” Zane agreed, slapping him on the back. “Maybe you should listen to yourself.”
“It’s not the same,” he grunted.
“How is it not the same? At least Mary Ellen hasn’t been dating an abusive loser for the last few years.”
“Mary Ellen doesn’t date.”
“How do you know that?”
“I asked her.”
“You mean you asked her out?” Zane asked, sounding shocked.
“No,” he sighed. “She was in a hurry to get out of work one day, and I asked if she had a hot date. She said, and I quote, ‘I don’t date’. Unquote.”
“She would have, if you had asked.”
“No, she wouldn’t.”
“It’s just like if I had asked Amanda.”
“No. Amanda has always been in love with you. Mary Ellen didn’t even know I existed until she started working at the paper.”
“How much younger than you is she?”
“Why does that matter?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Three years. Now, why?”
“It would have been weird for her to be hanging out with you in high school. I mean, did you even notice her at the time?”
“No, not really,” he shrugged. “Too busy playing football and running the school newspaper.”
“Do you see my point?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So, what are you doing that’s got Mary Ellen in such a snit?”
By the time he was done explaining, Zane was laughing so hard, he was bent over double, using Brock’s truck to hold himself up. “Oh man, you really have lost your mind.”
“Thanks,” he grouched. “I really needed the encouragement.”
“You’re a dope. I’m surprised she hasn’t strangled you, already.”
“My plan’s not that bad. It could work,” he said, sounding like he was starting to doubt himself.
“Yeah, sure it might,” Zane agreed with a wide grin. “But if it does, it’s going
to be one really rough ride.”
11:45am
Brock walked out of his office, a distracted air about him. He was studying a mock-up of that evenings paper and hadn’t looked up yet. “Mary Ellen, has Chris turned in that Christmas story for this week? We were running those on Tuesday, weren’t we?”
Getting nothing but dead silence for answer, he finally looked up to find his assistant staring at him with a far off look on her face. “Mary Ellen? Are you in there?”
“Sorry, Mr. Silverman,” she said, a blush spreading across her face. “What did you need?”
“Sweet Cheeks,” he growled back.
“Don’t start,” she snapped, finally managing to shake off the remainder of her dazed state. The last thing she needed was to have to try and argue the reason why she refused to call him by his first name while they were in the office. She always thought the man looked delicious enough to eat, but this morning when he walked in and she noticed he hadn’t bothered to shave, she had nearly fainted. She couldn’t remember once, in all the time she had worked at the paper with him, him coming in with stubble on his chin. If you had asked her any time before today, she would have told you there was no way he could become more appealing to her. She would have been wrong. “What do you need?”
“Were we running those Christmas feature stories on Tuesday or Wednesday?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her, doing his best not to let the grin he could feel trying to break free spread across his face. Her eyes might be snapping fire at him right now, but there for a few seconds, she looked like she wanted to strip his clothes off him and lick him from head-to-toe like a lollipop. Something he would be more than willing to try and hold still for.
“Wednesday,” she replied, turning back to her file cabinet, so she didn’t have to keep looking at him. She wasn’t sure she could take much more, without throwing herself at him.
“Okay,” he grinned at the back of her head. “That would explain why it’s not on the mock-up. I’ve had so much on my mind, I must be getting my days mixed up.”
“Not surprising, with your thinking about finding a wife,” she sneered, keeping her back to him.
When she didn’t turn back to make her reply, he frowned, trying to think of something to say that would force her to do so. Not coming up with anything, he finally grumbled, “Okay, I’m going back to my office now.”
“Okay,” she mumbled, still deep in her file sorting. When that still failed to get her to turn around, he huffed and turned back to his office door.
She waited till she heard the door close behind him before finally breathing a sigh of relief and turning to take her seat at her desk. She was starting to contemplate not coming back from lunch. She didn’t figure she was going to be able to handle staring at his gorgeous, scruffy face without jumping on him much longer.
2:15pm
Brock had been pacing back and forth in his office for the last twenty minutes or so, trying to come up with a good reason to call Mary Ellen into his office with him. He had a crazy plan in mind but didn’t want to try it in her office, due to two of the four walls in there were made of glass, so she could watch the floor and know immediately if there was a problem. The entire staff would see what he was up to. Dang glass walls! It wasn’t like they had problems very often. He had a superior staff who knew what they were doing. Neither he or Mary Ellen were called out to the floor very often. Most everything that fell under their jurisdiction, they could deal with from their offices.
He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. “Screw it. I’ll just wing-it,” he mumbled to himself. “I’ll think of something.”
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves before stepping forward to throw open the door. “Mary Ellen, can you come in here for a minute, please?” He heard her groan before she scooted her chair back and stood to her feet. He did his best to ignore the butterflies that little sound sent flying around in his stomach.
Deciding to retreat a little, he paced back to his desk, keeping his back to the door.
He knew the second she entered the room. The butterflies in his stomach renewed their flight plan, nearly flying up his throat. “Please, close the door behind you.”
“Certainly, Mr. Silverman,” she answered, sounding nervous. He knew if he had been looking at her, he would have found her chewing on her bottom lip. “Is there something wrong?”
“No,” he answered, turning once he heard the soft click of the office door closing, so he could face her. “I have a…” He huffed, coming to an abrupt stop, trying to figure out what was going on with her today.
She swallowed, lifting her head only enough to see he was facing her. “You have what?” she asked, quickly dropping her eyes back to the floor.
“First I want you to explain why you’re having such a hard time looking at me,” he grumbled, glaring at her bent head.
“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Silverman,” she mumbled, quickly glancing up at him, then toward the door.
“Really?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at her. Not that she noticed. She was still too busy staring at the door to know what he was doing.
“Yes,” she nodded, making it look like she was actually talking to the door now. He had a strong impression, all she wanted was for him to get this over with, whatever this was, so she could go back to her office.
“Well, if that’s the case, then turn and look at me,” he grumbled, giving her a dirty look.
She took a deep breath, as if she needed to calm her nerves, finally turning to meet his eyes. “Yes, Mr. Silverman. What can I do for you?” the instant the question was out of her mouth, she started staring out the floor to ceiling windows in the corner of his office.
He took a step forward, causing her to take one backwards, bringing herself closer to the wall behind her. “Next, stop calling me Mr. Silverman, Sweet Cheeks,” he said low, nearly growling at her. If she was going to continue to be difficult, he’d just do his best to make her angry enough to look up at him.
She huffed, finally glaring him straight in the eyes. “We’ve been over this. I’m not going to call you by your first name while we’re in the office. Get over it.”
He took a step forward again, knowing already what she would do. She took an answering step back, shoving her hand in his chest. “Stop that,” she snapped.
“Stop what?” he smirked, stepping forward once again. This time when she backed up, she hit the wall, her eyes growing huge with surprise. He just grinned, laying his hands against the wall on either side of her head.
“Brock, what are you doing?” she gasped, not realizing what she had done.
“This,” he whispered, before he leaned in and claimed her lips with his own, immediately drawing a groan from both of them. He brought his hands over to cradle the back of her head and swiped his tongue across the seam of her lips. She grabbed his waist, digging her nails in and gasped, giving him a chance to deepen the kiss.
When her tongue twined with his and he realized she wasn’t likely to try and do him a bodily harm, he groaned and slid his hands down her back to grip her bottom, raising her up on her tip-toes, causing her to lean more fully into his chest. She wrapped her arms up under his and around his back, digging her nails into his shoulder blades, doing her best just to hang on. She couldn’t remember every being affected by a kiss the way she already had been by this one. She was starting to get light-headed and wasn’t sure she was going to survive this encounter without passing out on him.
He brought his arms up to wrap around her, fully intending to kiss her until they both passed out. And he would have to. Unfortunately, someone else had other plans. There was a light knock on the door a split second before it was opened to admit Fred Colt, one of the floor managers.
“Mr. Silverman, I figured you and…” His words trailed off and he just stood there, his mouth hanging open. Unsure what else to do, he continued to stand there like that, Brock staring back at him, in obvious irritation. Mary Ellen, he
noted, hadn’t taken her shocked eyes off Brock yet. He was guessing the boss man had been the one to start the kiss and had shocked her as well.
“Fred, you probably should show them this as well,” came from behind him when George Happy, the other floor manager, walked up behind him. “Oh boy! It’s about time.”
George’s obvious delight in the situation finally broke the awkward silence enough for Fred to grumble, “How did you figure that out?” He stepped farther into the room, but only another step. He wasn’t really feeling sure what he should be doing right then. “It’s not like you actually saw them kissing. You would think however, they would have let go of each other and took a step back by now.”
“Oh, you old grump,” the other man snorted, smacking Fred in the arm before turning to address Brock and Mary Ellen. “Never mind him. He doesn’t handle awkward situations well. We had some questions about this evenings paper but I’m sure we can work them out. It was just a couple of national articles we just got off the wire. Just wanted your opinions. You two just go back to what you were doing.” He grinned, then turned, shoving the other man back out the door, closing it behind them. Brock and Mary Ellen could still hear them arguing as they walked away.
5:15pm
Mary Ellen knocked on the front door of Mark and Jenny’s house, then immediately started pacing the full length of their wrap around porch. She was turned and pacing toward the far end when she heard the door open behind her. She turned to find Mark standing there with a look crossed between humor and concern. He could tell by looking at her, Brock had obviously gotten her worked up somehow. “Are you alright? You seem a bit agitated.”
She shook her head, sighing. “I don’t know. I just need to talk to Jenny about something.” She was wound so tight, she felt like she’d drank a whole pot of strong coffee by herself. Not one of those pots you can find in a department store for home use. One of the industrial size pots that held about two gallons of the stuff, easily.
“Okay,” he said, nodding his head, stepping back out of her way, so she could enter the house. “Come on in. She’s in the nursery with the baby. He needed a fresh diaper.”
Married by Christmas (Sapphire Springs Book 2) Page 3